


images that might be real, may be illusion

by Etherea



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, I had a god in my brain, I think better with my pants off, I'm still working on writing the really dirty bits, Quickies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-04 08:32:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etherea/pseuds/Etherea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being freed from Loki's influence, Clint is still fitting the pieces of himself back together.  As usual, blows to the head are Natasha's solution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	images that might be real, may be illusion

The bow in his hand is balanced, ready. Coulson stands before him, weapon pointed at Loki. He speaks, but the words cannot penetrate the blue hum crowding Clint's brain. He looks down at his bow, and it is a sceptre. He looks again. It is thrust through Coulson's chest. 

Clint wakes sweaty, muscles taut as a bowstring. He is too well trained to move, let alone release the scream sounding in his mind. For a long moment he is locked in place, the world tinted blue. A movement at the corner of his eye, red hair lit only by the scant moonlight peeking through the clouds outside, breaks the still memory of the spell, and he can breathe again.  
"Where are you?" she murmurs, and he turns his head to face her. Clint makes a face, and she knows. "You didn't kill him, Clint. You wouldn't have killed any of them if you'd been yourself."  
Clint huffs out an angry breath. "I think I was more myself those days than I ever have been. I'd be perfect for SHIELD, if they could take me back to that." He can't look her in the eye until she replies.  
"You know what I am, Clint. How I got here, who made me."  
"And they'd have done this to you, if they could." In the space of a breath, his mind is open to the memory, to the cold touch of a mad god's desires. Parts of him unnecessary to the function for which he was chosen flung aside, with no thought to how they would fit back together again, or even if they could. He was made pure, mere human need purged from his mind, leaving only his skills, his eyes and hands, a spy's dispassionate analysis of his targets, objectives, victims - 

The smack of Nat's palm against his temple breaks him out of his memory, and his eyes meet hers in a silent apology.  
"Am I only what they made of me?" Her hand strokes his face, cooling the sharp sting of her blow. "Am I just the skills they left me with?"  
She rolls up onto her side, and Clint rolls to meet her. Everywhere their skin touches burns with sudden need, and there is nothing cold or blue about this loss of control. Natasha arches her head back, nipping at his lip, mouths meeting hot and wet and then parting again to bite and kiss down ears and necks and along collarbones. 

Neither one of them could say later whether they had torn off their own pants or each other's. 

~~~

He breathes out again, and lowers her back onto the bed, flopping gracelessly beside her.  
"You know, Erik _said_ he thinks better with his pants off."  
Nat hits him in the head again, a little softer than before "There was no thinking involved in that."  
"True."  
They lay against one another. Clint clears his throat a little before he speaks.  
"It's not the same, you know," he murmurs. "I think you would have made it out without S.H.I.E.LD, without me. You always would have come back from what they did to you."  
She lays her hand against his face, and kisses him again. "You're sweet. And wrong." Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "We were always going to need each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Nerves! All the nerves! It has been many, many years since I've put a piece of writing out there for the world to see. Feedback is much appreciated. This one was inspired by Selvig's in in Thor 2 about thinking better with his pants off. I mean, clearly we needed to find out if the same was true for Clint. Title is from the lyrics to Blue, from the Cowboy Bebop soundtrack.


End file.
